


Burn Baby Burn

by UnderTheFridge



Series: My Ex Is On Fire [3]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Power (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Off-screen, Organized Crime, Resolved Sexual Tension, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheFridge/pseuds/UnderTheFridge
Summary: Milan and Anatoli finally close the deal, in more ways than one.(Meanwhile, Petar feels up a sniper rifle, and the victim from a previous story makes an unwelcome return.)





	1. Chapter 1

“ _ Don’t you think it’s rude, to touch another man’s weapon while he’s not here? _ ”

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Petar says succinctly, and Tatiana scoffs. “ _ You’re just jealous that he hasn’t gone out with you _ .  _ Again. _ ”

“ _ I’m not _ ,” she replies unconvincingly, but doesn’t start an argument. She’s about to head out herself. “ _ Do I look good? _ ” she purrs to one of their colleagues, catching him staring at her cleavage, and he nods dumbly. “ _ I’m going. Goodnight, Petar. _ ”

“ _ Don’t come back _ ,” he says, which she expects entirely.

Her heels echo across the warehouse to the door, and Petar lifts the rifle gently out of its case and mimes shooting her in the back of the head.

“ _ Milan would kill you for that, _ ” Bratislav says.

“ _ There are others like her; he wouldn’t think it was personal. _ ”

“ _ No - for using his weapon without his permission _ .”

They smirk at each other. Petar lays the gun reverently on a piece of cloth and wipes away the invisible evidence of his hands. He takes the other pieces from the case, one by one, teasing them out of their spaces and holding them up to the light. All told, perhaps ten thousand American dollars of hardware. As a  _ gift _ .

Bratislav appears at his shoulder, with a couple of the others. “ _ I bet he can’t wait to use it himself _ .”

“ _ I think so _ ,” Petar says, although he knows it for certain. The light in Milan’s eyes; the thought of rising above the level of street-level brawls, pieces poking out of waistbands, cheap semi-autos with taped-up grips. He’s a great sniper, calm and patient. He’d love to stake out a rooftop and pick off his rivals from afar, as much as he’d love to strangle them with his bare hands.

“ _ So, this is our new supplier? _ ” They all hover over the rifle, not quite daring to touch it. The ammunition lies in a neat stack nearby, and a few hands stray to that instead.

“ _ He moved in himself, on the territory where Vladimir chased the Albanians away. And yes, soon he may provide us with everything. _ ”

“ _ And his price? _ ”

“ _ I believe Milan will negotiate that. They have been spending time together - they seem to share a connection _ .”


	2. Chapter 2

“So nice of them to provide for the evening, don’t you think?”

Knyazev just shrugs. Milan’s moods may be subtle, but his are almost completely unreadable. He turns away from conversations as soon as he’s finished and doesn’t bother with pleasantries. It’s either arrogance or discomfort, perhaps both. Or maybe he’s just from a different business, a different world.

Milan has been working on him since they met, trying to find out. Most men will get to the point - usually assisted by alcohol - where they crack, letting you know how useful they really are It hasn’t worked, even though it was all for free.

Next time, he will insist Knyazev pays his tab - to see if the way in is through the wallet.

“What? You don’t like being entertained? Or maybe you don’t like the show.”

“It’s a waste of our time.”

“I disagree. When you see your establishment full of dangerous men, it reminds you to pay attention. When we outnumber the ‘real’ patrons, it sends a message: we are everywhere. And we have to do nothing but sit there and drink, and talk to the girls. Such hardship, hm?”

He looks away. It could be a tell, or a warning sign. That spark is still there, a pilot light burning low between them. This is where it happens - if it happens. Milan can sense it.

“What is it? The girls, they don’t interest you? What are you used to? Your ladies back home? Your  _ mother _ ?”

Milan’s back strikes the wall. Knyazev holds his shirt and stares at him, daring him to reach for a weapon. He won’t. They are both armed and it isn’t worth it.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You did. Do it again, and you’ll regret it.”

“I’ve made you angry, hm?” He pushes back a little, getting a better position, and lays his hands on Knyazev’s shoulders. “I wondered what it would take. You’re a powerful man. You don’t give much away.” He squeezes lightly. “I like that.”

He can’t help but feel the tension under his fingers; a suppressed shudder.

“What are you doing - finding how much meat I have in me?”

“Something like that,” Milan purrs, and closes the gap further. He’s still pinned, but less than before; it takes minimal effort to lean forward and gently bite Anatoli’s lower lip. If he dies in pursuit of this, it’s here and now.


	3. Chapter 3

Anatoli slams the drawer to the bedside table hard and it jolts Milan awake.

“Room service will be here and you leave weapons on the table. Careless.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine. If they catch us, yours.”

“Your fault.”

“You were taking off my clothes. Your fault.”

Milan turns over and sits up, folding his arms. He doesn’t appear to want an argument, which is wise of him.

“You seem to have got them back.”

Anatoli is half-dressed, having already showered (and inspected the scratches running livid over the ink on his back). He reaches into his pocket and flicks something at Milan’s face - a button.

“You ruined my shirt. You’re lucky I won’t make you pay."

“I can afford it,” Milan says neutrally. “I could ruin your whole wardrobe, without a problem.”

The challenge brewing between them is interrupted by a knock on the door.

 

\--

 

“You said you’d ruin my wardrobe, not steal it. Give that back.”

“I like it,” Milan says, finding an engraved metal lighter in the pocket. “Who is Sasha?”

“Give it back.” Anatoli doesn’t sound angry, but is obviously not overjoyed to see someone else modelling his jacket. “Come on.”

It doesn’t immediately happen, so he steps forward and tugs the jacket down, trapping Milan’s arms and pinning him against the mirror.

“Do I have to fight you?” Hardly a fight, and they’d probably be evenly matched.

“Look at me, I’m helpless.” Milan lets him approach. In any other situation he’d slam his head into their face, but he turns it into a kiss instead, harsh and satisfying.

“Now,” Anatoli says, as soon as they part, “give me back my jacket.”

“It looks better on me.”

He pushes Anatoli away with his foot, and that does start a fight - or something like one. They’re about evenly matched, but Milan starts with his movement restricted and has to concede the advantage. It has, truly, been a long time since he was last held down to a hotel carpet, with a body on his back and fibres rough on his face. He gets a hand free but an iron grip slams down on his wrist. Ink flexes with the tightening of fingers, and Anatoli has him almost immobilised.

He’s about to say something smart (and perhaps explore the potential offered by this position) when they both notice it.

“What’s that?”

Milan mutters something, and Anatoli thus learns the Serbian term for ‘sock’.

“Is that yours?”

“No. Is it yours?”

“What do you think?”

“Where’s the other one?”

“It must be here. Somewhere. You noticed he didn’t have them?”

“It’s something young people do these days, isn’t it? I didn’t know he took them off.”

“You have to find the other one. If someone suspects anything - about that man, and where he went - they’ll come here first. And if his uncle goes to the police….”

“He won’t,” Milan snaps, affronted. “They are too scared. Nobody will talk.”

“But if he does.”

“You’re such a pessimist. All we need to do is find the other, and destroy them.”

“All  _ you _ need to do.”

“Will you just... stand and watch?”

“This is your business. So it’s your problem.”

“I thought you liked me.”

Anatoli sits up, resting both of his hands on Milan’s back as if to make palm-prints on either side of his spine, not letting him up just yet. “Maybe I’ll like you when you get rid of the evidence.”

“You see, this is what they call ‘playing hard to get’….”


	4. Chapter 4

“ _ You were away all night. _ ”

“ _ I know - I’m sorry I didn’t reply to you. I was occupied _ .”

Petar sighs; very few things require enough attention for their mastermind to cut off contact. “ _ Did you fuck him? _ ”

“ _ How did you guess? _ ”

“ _ Are you sure? Because the way you’re walking…. _ ”

Milan gives him a look that suggests that a ruthless high-ranking Russian career criminal couldn’t possibly hope to be the dominant one - and the way he sits down completely fails to validate it.

“ _ So do we have the deal _ ?” Petar asks, instead of pointing this out.

“ _ We do. He is very grateful to us for driving away the Albanians and opening the market. _ ”

“ _ That’s not the only thing that was opened _ ,” Petar says, quietly enough not to be heard.

“ _ I heard that _ .”

Petar draws himself up to his full height, glad that Milan is seated.

“ _ Only you could entertain a business associate at a strip club and end up as the one getting fucked.” _

A tiny quirk of a smile tells him he’s safe - which he knew he would be. They haven’t spent years working with each other, reading each other, for nothing. One glance can condemn a person to death, the message so subtle that observers would be oblivious.

“ _ You think you would have done better _ ? _ ” _

“ _ I barely know what he looks like _ .”

“ _ As if that’s the deciding factor _ .” Milan goes to cross his legs but abandons the effort halfway through. “ _ I suppose you could close your eyes and pretend he’s  _ Destiny.”

“ _ She’s not my girlfriend. _ ”

“ _I never said she was, Petar._ _But you two make a sweet couple_. _You should take her out next weekend, somewhere nice._ ”

“ _ While you’re in Florida? I have to run things here. I’m not going on a date. Stop arranging my romantic life. I bet you’ve already invited her, haven’t you _ ?”

Milan puts his phone down on the table, and doesn’t say a word.


End file.
